


Observe/Admire

by corinneftw



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: First Dates, Fluff, M/M, brad's leather jacket, honestly so much fluff that maybe I should be embarrassed but I'm not so oh well, nate is looking (mostly) respectfully, nate's paddle party, no beta we die like men, they are both emotionally mature and we love to see it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25754254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corinneftw/pseuds/corinneftw
Summary: Nate knows this is his own fault.
Relationships: Brad Colbert/Nate Fick
Comments: 5
Kudos: 75
Collections: Loose Lips Sink Ships Prompt Meme





	Observe/Admire

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Loose Lips Sink Ships prompt "Nate was not prepared for Brad in a leather jacket."
> 
> It may have gotten away from me a little bit. Not sure if the prompter wanted 1300 words of flirting but that's what happened so here we are! Several paragraphs inspired by [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?&v=8DbvRQAKmIY) of real Brad talking about the paddle tradition.
> 
> Also it's my first fic ever (rip) so I'm happy to receive (constructive, and hopefully kind) comments!

Nate’s mouth is dry. Nate’s mouth has never been drier in his entire life and he can’t find a fucking glass of water. He’s at a bar, why can’t he find any water?

He knows this is his own fault. His paddle party had been five days ago, and he had never seen a work of art quite like the paddle that Bravo Two had gifted him. He knows collecting everything for the paddle is a team effort, but he could tell Brad been the one to create it. The blade was perfectly crafted, and Nate wonders how long Brad had spent sanding it, working to bring it up to Brad’s exacting standards. Nate wonders if Brad feels he succeeded.

The paddle was as clear a move as Brad was able to make, and Nate knew better than to throw away the opportunity he had been waiting for since he first met Brad at Pendleton. He followed Brad’s lead and stuck with beer while successfully managing to pass off anything stronger to whoever was closest. By the time the toasts were over – and Nate had been referred to as “mom” no fewer than six times – everyone except Nate, Brad, Mike, and Rudy were well past drunk.

Despite the fact that he was an officer, Nate wasn’t stupid enough to try anything that evening. He knew how to use an advantage when presented to him, however, and so he volunteered Brad to help him pick up the bottles strewn all over Mike’s backyard as Mike and Rudy worked to get the rest of the group into cabs. With everyone present sufficiently drunk or distracted, Nate was able to ask Brad if he’d be interested in getting a drink in San Clemente – far away enough to reduce the chances of running into a familiar face but close enough to not be suspicious if someone asked. The satisfied silence that they worked in following Brad’s acceptance was enough for Nate to know that he had done exactly as Brad hoped.

Nate is now, of course, realizing his mistake – Brad had to drive his truck to the party to transport the paddle and the cases of beer he was tasked with bringing, but he would use any opportunity to take out his motorcycle. Brad liked to take calculated risks but he knew his job depended on his well-being, which meant Nate now had to suffer through the absolute torture of sitting across from Brad in a leather jacket.

He had been sitting sideways on his stool at the table – a small one in the back corner near the hall to the back door, with the seat facing the main entrance kept free for Brad – under the pretense of watching the TV behind the bar. That means that he get a clear view of Brad as he steps into the dark bar and gets to experience his mouth go drier than the Sahara as Brad’s eyes adjust and zero in on Nate. He nods at Brad and turns to sit properly at the table so he can finally locate his water glass and take an only slightly desperate gulp as he schools his expression into something less stunned. The ghost of the smirk on Brad’s face as Brad slides onto his stool is enough to tell Nate that The Iceman does, in fact, see everything.

“Nate,” Brad greets him as he slides into his chair.

“Brad.”

This had been Nate’s only condition, when Brad accepted his invitation with a “sir” tacked on at the end. Nate would be Nate and Brad would be Brad – Nate knew The Iceman was a myth, that illusion was shattered when he saw Brad cry over a young boy’s body, but Nat was no longer an officer and it was important to him that they meet on even ground. Any other parameters could and would be negotiated. Brad had readily agreed and seemed to release a little bit of tension (or maybe Nate had just been projecting).

“How did you find this place?” Brad asks, looking at the bar. Nate can admit he chose this bar specifically because in this, his and Brad’s tastes align – there’s a respectable selection of beers on tap and the liquors are well-curated, but the most complicated mixed drink they’ll do is a whiskey-soda.

“VJ likes the beaches in San Clemente, so we come up this way when we’re both stateside. He would happily go anywhere he can get a Corona, but I finally insisted we find somewhere I could get something that isn’t water pretending to be beer. It helps that the food is good,” Nate adds, pushing the basket of chips and salsa towards Brad.

Brad’s eyes haven’t left the bar, which leaves Nate free to admire Brad in his jacket. It’s well-worn and looks soft as butter. Nate wants to reach out and see if it’s as soft as it looks, but he knows this isn’t the time. The collar brushes against Brad’s neck as he turns back to face Nate, and Nate brings his eyes back up to Brad’s face. He doesn’t look away as Brad raises an eyebrow – they both know why they’re sitting across from each other.

“What do you want?” Brad is standing to make his way to the bar. Nate follows the movement, watching Brad’s shoulders shift as he looks back down at Nate.

“Dealer’s choice,” he says, trusting Brad to make a decision for him. He knows Brad will find something he’ll enjoy – Brad is too observant to not already know what Nate would pick for himself. “And a bacon cheeseburger. I have a tab open.”

Brad’s left eyebrow creeps towards his hairline. “Going to pay for our date tonight, Nate?”

Nate huffs out a laugh, half-surprised by Brad’s direct reference to the fact that Nate did, in fact, intend for this to be a date, even if he never said it in so many words. “I would never suggest anything of the sort. However, I am the one that asked you here tonight, and I would be happy to cover this time.” He lets the implication that he would like there to be more dates in the future hang in the air between them.

Brad’s blue eyes bore into Nate’s for just one moment too long before he turns and makes his way to the bar. Nate takes the opportunity to admire his leather jacket from the back – it’s molded to the shape of Brad’s shoulders and pulls tight as he leans forward to rest his forearms on the bar. There’s an area on the right shoulder and upper arm that looks as though it made hard contact with the pavement at one point. It also rides up enough for Nate to appreciate Brad’s ass in his jeans. As Brad turns back towards Nate with two dark beers, Nate lets himself drag his eyes up Brad’s body as overtly as possible.

A beer lands in front of Nate accompanied by another raised eyebrow from Brad. Nate gives Brad his cheekiest smile.

“You know,” Brad starts, pausing to take a sip of his beer, “I heard this saying once. An officer said it, so take it with a grain of salt, but it went something like _‘Observe everything, admire nothing.’_ Is that ringing any bells, Nate?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve earned the right to admire at least one thing.” Nate tries his beer and hums in appreciation – his trust in Brad lives on. He licks the head off of his upper lip and watches as Brad’s eyes track the movement of his tongue. “So what did you decide? About the tab?”

“I figure if I’m going to be blatantly objectified all night I might as well get something out of it, so you can pay.” Another pointed swallow of beer. “This time.”

“Fair enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at [doc-bryan](http://doc-bryan.tumblr.com)


End file.
